


spitting image

by treefood



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Brotherly Angst, Drabble, Family Member Death, Funeral, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Illnesses, No Plot/Plotless, Terminal Illnesses, War, also this is super short im sorrY, i love this family and i love hennike so here you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefood/pseuds/treefood
Summary: Her face was stoic, but beautiful, with very little wrinkles. But, she was still a relatively young woman. Hennike was where Laurent got most, if not all, of his looks. He could see it as they sat in the light of the golden hour, he could see himself in her.
Relationships: Aleron/Hennike (Captive Prince), Auguste & Hennike (Captive Prince), Auguste & Laurent (Captive Prince), Hennike & Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	spitting image

Hennike fell ill right before the war with Akeilos. It was a violent illness, one that had her almost immediately bedridden. This was a terrifying reality for Laurent. His father and brother were both getting ready to go out and fight in a war that could end one of two ways in Laurent’s favor. He hoped his mother would get better, but with the severity of the illness it wasn’t likely. He could only hope that she would hold on for a while longer than expected. The doctors ruled it as not contagious and a hereditary illness that was probably passed down through her family lineage. It wasn’t anything she had heard about before, but she was glad to know it wouldn’t be passed down to her children. 

Most days, while Auguste and Aleron studied maps and attack strategies, Laurent sat with his mother. He would sit in on their meetings occasionally out of worry, but if his mother was on her deathbed he wanted to be with her. It made her happy and he knew that. Seldom did his father come into the room, worried that he would catch something and Auguste would go into battle alone. So, Laurent would sit with her for hours while she brushed his hair and told him stories from when he was young.

On Sundays, after breakfast, Laurent and Auguste both would sit with their mother. Auguste would tell her about the upcoming war and Laurent would tidy up while he had servants fetch her fresh bedsheets and clothes. 

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Auguste asked one night after they left.

“Of course I am.” Laurent said tiredly. “Are you?”

“Laurent, you needn’t be worried. Mother is strong, she always has been.” Auguste said. “This will pass, as will this war.” 

“I hope you are right.” Laurent sighed.

Days later, he walked out to the garden with her. It was just warm enough to be comfortable without getting a chill and, together, they watched the sunset. She held his hands tightly in her trembling ones. She was still beautiful, her hair just as blonde as Laurent’s. It stopped right at her hips and, ordinarily, she wore it in a tight bun or a long braid. But, as she progressively grew more ill, her hair fell out and she didn’t bother to pull it up. She would let Laurent brush it, but he was the only one permitted to ever touch her hair. She wouldn’t even let August try to braid it for her. Her face was stoic, but beautiful, with very little wrinkles. But, she was still a relatively young woman. Hennike was where Laurent got most, if not all, of his looks. He could see it as they sat in the light of the golden hour, he could see himself in her.

They slowly walked back into the palace, Laurent’s arm wrapped around hers as they did. Servants murmured as they passed and guards would politely smile, but it was different. Both of them could tell the difference in the way the addressed their queen. As they got back into her room, she sat down at the vanity and Laurent picked up a brush. She stared at him in the mirror, an absent smile on her face before she suddenly frowned.

“What is it, mother?” He asked thoughtfully.

“Nothing, my dear. No need for you to worry. I was just thinking.”

“What about?” He asked again, politely prying.

She sighed slowly, closing her eyes and leaning her head back into Laurent’s touch. Laurent frowned a little as he brushed through her long locks, watching her quietly. She was truly a beautiful woman and Vere was lucky to have her as their queen. Laurent hoped and hoped and even prayed that this illness would leave with the night, but her fits got worse with each day and there wasn’t much hope for Vere’s late queen much longer. Laurent put down the brush on the vanity and stared at his mother in the mirror. Truly, he was her spitting image.

“Laurent?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Would you braid my hair for me, darling boy?” Laurent was a little taken aback, but all the same nodded. She didn’t put her hair up since she initially got sick.

“Of course, mother.” He said with a nod. He pulled up a small, cushioned stool and sat behind her. He parted her hair, slowly starting to braid it as she sighed slowly.

“Laurent,” she said quietly. “I have to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I fear that…” She looked at him in the mirror. “And it pains me to say this, darling. I fear that life will not be easy for you.”

“Whatever makes you say that, mother?” He asked, blinking.

“I’m very ill. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to be here with you.” She explained. “And with this war raging between Vere and Akeilos… It is going to be a very violent war. I fear for your father and for your brother.”

“You needn’t fear for them, mother.” Laurent said as he braided her long hair, slowly and steadily, though his heart was beating in his ears. “They’re strong and Auguste is very talented. Everything will be alright.”

“Auguste’s optimism has rubbed off on you.” She chuckled, albeit a little bitterly. “It’s going to be a violent war, Laurent, and people play dirty. Your uncle deeply, _deeply_ wants to take the throne. He always has, since your father and I married.” 

“Uncle?” Laurent echoed, tilting his head, pausing to look at her. 

Laurent didn’t do much interacting with his uncle. He sat with them at the front of the table at dinner, he would ask Laurent how his studies were going. He never paid much attention to either of his parents or Auguste, he just primarily talked to Laurent until someone interrupted him. He would walk him to his chambers occasionally and give him senseless compliments that Laurent merely shrugged off. But, otherwise, he didn’t see his uncle very much.

Hennike turned in her chair slowly, Laurent relinquishing her hair. She put a hand on either side of his face, cupping it gently in her soft, trembling hands. Her blue eyes locked with his and Laurent suddenly understood the franticness of his mother’s words.

“Laurent, I need you to listen to me and I need you to listen very carefully.”

“Yes, mother.” Laurent said quietly.

“Your uncle wants to take the throne from your father. Then, he _will_ take it from Auguste. I am not going to survive this, my darling dove, I am not. I want to be here with you, but it is not realistic anymore. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mother.”

“So that leaves you.” She said seriously, grimly. “I do not know what is going to happen to me or to your brother or your father or you. And, Laurent, _that terrifies me_. You are my _son_ , my flesh and blood, and I am going to have to leave you. My darling, you have to survive this. This war, this everything, you have to survive whatever is thrown your way for me. I cannot afford to lose you, you are my _everything._ ”

“Mother I—”

“You are brilliant. You are the brightest child I have ever known and you have to use that to your advantage. Promise me you will. I need you to swear to me you are going to survive anything that is thrown at you, Laurent.”

“Mother, are you feeling alright?”

“Laurent, you’re not listening.”

“I am! I am I just…” He sighed. “Mother, everything will be fine. We will win this war, father and Auguste will be just fine. Everything will be fine.”

Laurent stared at his mother, looked at how frantic her expression was. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She hugged him back, pressing a few kisses to his temple. Laurent didn’t know what to make of all of this. 

“I will be alright mother, I swear to you.”

“Thank you.” She whispered. “Thank you, my darling boy.”

She slowly pulled away and turned back to the mirror. Laurent resumed where he was in braiding her hair, his fingers trembling. Just as he finished, Auguste knocked and came into the room, gasping.

“Mother, your hair!” He smiled. “I’m sure you’re feeling much better, aren’t you?”

She looked at her eldest son, smiling as she slowly stood, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I am, my dear. But, I believe I am going to retire for the night.”

“Well, what a shame.” He frowned. “I just came to visit you and you’re going right to bed.”

She smiled to herself as he escorted her to her bed, pulling back the bedding and helping her in. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and Laurent followed suit. She pulled him in for a moment, hugging him tightly to her.

“Be careful, my darling. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.” She whispered.

As the two brothers left her room that night, Laurent broke down. He couldn’t keep it in anymore, so it happened in the middle of the hallway as servants walked by and Auguste shielded him from any wandering eyes. He tried to explain to Auguste, did his best, but he just couldn’t get anything out without working himself up further. Auguste walked him back to his room, where Laurent sat in a chair across the room from Auguste’s bed.

“Come to bed, brother,” Auguste said hours after falling asleep. “You have to sleep some time.”

But Laurent didn’t come to bed. Instead, he stayed up, crouched over Akeilon papers that he mercilessly studied until sunrise. He finally climbed into bed, closing his eyes for what felt like only a moment before someone knocked on the door. Laurent was the one who sat up as the door cracked open. 

“Your highnesses.” A voice said. “I… I hate to wake you, but it’s about the queen.”

Laurent nudged his brother awake who quickly rolled out of bed and followed the servant to their mother’s chambers. Their father sat, crouched next to her, her hand in his. Auguste and Laurent stared, Laurent’s stomach in his throat.

“Mother…” He murmured.

His father looked up at both of the boys before looking back to his late wife, who lay unmoving. She looked pale, paler than she ever had before. Laurent could only imagine what she felt like, how cold she had to have been. He put a hand over his mouth, his breath hitching. Auguste turned and pulled his brother into his arms.

The funeral was the next day, her braid still exactly how Laurent had done it a few nights before. He held Auguste’s hand tightly the entire time. It was the first time Laurent had ever seen his father cry. She was beautiful, just as she had always been. Laurent’s spitting image.

Days later, his brother and father left for the battle grounds. Auguste had kissed his cheek and promised he would be back, he wouldn’t leave Laurent alone. But, something in the pit of Laurent’s stomach told him otherwise. A nagging voice in the back of his head. So he watched his brother leave until he couldn’t see him, telling him he was going to come back. 

Days later, the news was broken to him.

**Author's Note:**

> hennike really fascinates me i wish we knew more about her UGH  
> anyways,,, this is kinda crappy and i dont have time to proof read it before work so,,,, leave me a comment if yall enjoyed this and thank you for reading!!! <3


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